


Right foot, red

by sdwolfpup



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (she added belatedly), Accidental Stimulation, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23502424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: Everything had been fine until they started playing Twister.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 187
Kudos: 444
Collections: J/B Monthly Madness: April 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For JB Monthly Madness April prompt: "accidental stimulation."

Everything had been fine until they started playing Twister. 

“I've never lost a game,” Brienne had said, like an idiot, when Sansa had brought it up. She knew how competitive Jaime was and that a pronouncement like that wouldn't go unremarked on. 

“Never?” he'd asked from the chair he was slouching in, drinking his beer. 

“Never.” 

“Oh, we have Twister!” Margaery had supplied cheerfully. 

Brienne couldn't even remember how it had come up in the first place, but they'd gotten to talking about board games and Sansa had mentioned Twister and Brienne had opened her big mouth and now Sansa was saying: “We should play!” and people were clearing the coffee table out of the way and shoving back couches and Jaime was standing there smirking at her with his beer bottle swinging casually between his fingers. 

Margaery reappeared from the hall closet and looked at the instructions. “Who wants to play against Brienne?” 

“Me,” Jaime said immediately and Brienne glared at him even though he hadn't been rude about it. He smiled innocently. 

Everyone else at the party looked at the two of them and their long limbs and tapped out. 

“I'll be spinner,” Sansa declared once they'd gotten the mat laid out, the colorful circles bright against her and Margaery's white rug. Brienne never understood how they kept that rug so clean given the number of little get-togethers like this that the two of them threw. She was starting to suspect they just bought a new one after every party. Robb and Theon alone could ruin a carpet in ten seconds with their overly enthusiastic beer-pong type games, and Brienne had definitely seen Loras spill wine before. 

She pulled off her shoes and tucked her socks into them, then glanced at Jaime's feet and tried not to give away that he'd already made his first mistake by leaving his socks on. 

“You don't have to humiliate yourself like this, Lannister,” Brienne said, stretching her arms over her head to limber up. 

“It's worth the risk,” he said, winking at her. He looked good that evening. He always looked good, of course, but he looked especially good tonight – relaxed and happy, tanned and dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. He'd brought a very expensive charcuterie plate with him, which had made him look even better since Robb and Jon and Theon had eaten all the snacks by the time Brienne got there. 

Brienne still wasn't exactly sure how Jaime Lannister had ended up part of the ever-expanding Stark-Tyrell social circle, but she suspected it was when Sansa and Tyrion had become friends. To be fair, though, she wasn't exactly sure how _she'd_ ended up in the group either, because she'd met Jon first on a dating app and their one date had been fun but there had been zero sexual chemistry between them, and Brienne was pretty sure it was Sansa who had invited her over to their first party afterward.

It didn't matter anyway, she and Jaime were both here now, facing each other from opposite sides of the Twister mat, their feet on the blue and yellow circles and her heart was pounding because what none of them knew was that sometime in the last few months Brienne had started having dreams about Jaime Lannister. 

Not nightmares or avant garde mysteries or ridiculous cartoon-like adventure dreams. _Sexy_ dreams. Dreams where Twister, if she'd thought of it, could have figured prominently as long as they were naked. 

She blushed and stared down at Jaime's socked feet. _Maybe I could pretend I'm sick_ , she thought. 

“Hey, Tarth,” Jaime said as Sansa set the spinner down and flicked it. Brienne chanced a look up at him. “You ready to take me?”

Brienne's mouth dropped open and Sansa said, “Left hand, yellow!” 

Jaime smiled and bent down, placing his broad, strong, way too attractive left hand on a yellow two dots away from her. 

Brienne frowned and crouched and put her hand on the yellow directly in front of her, her fingers splaying out and nearly touching his on the dot next to hers. 

“Left foot, green.” 

Brienne slid her foot over to the green dot right next to her left foot and smirked when Jaime had to shift and slide his foot under his over-extended left arm to get to the green circle. 

“One more bad call and you're out, Lannister.” 

“Game's just beginning, Tarth,” he huffed. These circles were not made for two tall adults and he was already near enough she could feel his breath on her hair. It made her shiver a little. “Cold?” he murmured and she craned her neck up enough to narrow her eyes at him. 

“Right foot, green.” 

They both re-positioned themselves, Jaime grinning triumphantly at his much better settled position. 

Brienne was focused, her bare foot was right next to his sock-covered one, their legs were nearly pressing against each other as they both contorted backward to keep their left hands on yellow, but she was well-balanced and although Jaime smelled amazing he was also her enemy here and she could ignore him long enough to win. 

Except then Sansa said: “Right hand, green,” and Jaime moved first, twisting his body and sliding his arm between her legs and placing his hand flat on the green circle between her feet. Sansa laughed in delight and Brienne held her breath as his shoulder pressed against her inner thigh and every molecule of air in her lungs wanted to sigh out of her in some sort of erotic waterfall. 

His shoulder was firm and warm and pressing very near where she had dreamed about him just last night, and she still had to figure out how to get her right hand to the green circle between _his_ legs. She couldn't let him win just because he had parts of his body pressing against parts of hers that no one but she had touched in far too long. 

There was nothing for it but to wrap her arm around his leg and basically shove her butt right in his face, which was exactly what Brienne did. 

“Getting up close and personal, are we?” he said in a low voice.

“You could have picked this circle yourself,” she hissed. He didn't say anything, although he seemed to be breathing harder, probably from the weird position he was in. 

“This is getting tricky,” Sansa sing-songed. “Okay, next is left foot, red.” 

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” Jaime muttered and Brienne had to agree with him. They were tangled around each other here on green, and red was all the way on the opposite side of the mat and if one or both of them didn't go down here it would be a miracle. 

Fortunately, Brienne had long legs, and she slid her left one out to the side without having to move her actual body all that much, though she did end up leaning a little more into Jaime's thigh and she found it tense and straining against her upper arm. 

“Your turn,” she told him, and he grunted. “You could just concede defeat.”

“Not a chance.” 

With surprising agility – although if Brienne had had the braincells to think about it, Jaime's general athleticism should have told her he'd be good at controlling his body – Jaime shifted his body a little away from her and touched his left foot to a red circle. In fact he looked steadier than she was now, which seemed very unfair. 

Their heads were near each other and Brienne looked over, his green eyes so close she could see the way the overhead lighting made the gold flecks shine, the way his pupils were wide and watching her. His lips, which looked more pink than usual surrounded by his perfect stubble, parted a little and Brienne thought she might have to forfeit before she threw herself on him. 

“Right hand, blue.” 

They moved at the same time, both of them aiming for blue circles in-between their own legs. Which would have been fine except when Brienne's own arm snugged up between her legs she was shocked at how sensitive she was and she made a soft little hum that, if they hadn't been right next to each other on this far too tiny Twister mat, Jaime should never have heard. 

“Having fun?” he asked her softly, his head touching the back of her thigh, his left arm still in-between her legs and pressing hard against her own and she was going to die here playing Twister with Jaime. 

“Lots,” she said grimly, sounding like she was considering the prospect of a lifetime of shoving tacks up her nose instead. But she couldn't stop the clenching need between her legs. 

He inhaled deeply and she was suddenly terrified he might be able to smell her arousal. 

“Right foot, red,” Sansa chirped, oblivious to the sexual torture Brienne was undergoing right in front of her. 

“Stay low,” Brienne said, and she lifted her right leg up and over Jaime Lannister's whole body, and brought it down on the far side of his left leg, his knee right into her aching center. Quickly Brienne started to lift her leg again when Sansa yelled, “Stop!”

They both froze, Brienne with her leg half off the ground, Jaime still planted in his original position, his face a mask of tension. 

“Once you place a hand or foot, it has to stay there,” Sansa said.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Those are the rules, Brie.” 

Brienne would have gladly burned those rules to ash in that moment, but she lowered her leg back onto the circle and herself right onto Jaime's knee and bit her lip so hard to keep from moaning that it hurt.

Jaime did not seem any happier with the situation, if the way his shoulders heaved up and down once was any indication. 

“Sorry,” Brienne whispered, grateful that it hid the appalling breathiness of her voice. Her jeans were pressing directly against her seam with every small shift of his leg. “It's the rules.”

“It's fine,” Jaime ground out, sounding like it was really not fine, but he clearly wasn't going to give up either. He was more competitive than she'd realized. 

Jaime twisted his torso, re-balancing himself, and she would have admired the very close sight of his back moving under her nose if in doing so he hadn't also rubbed his leg against her heated core. Brienne gasped, a tiny, desperate, “ _ahh_ ” and Jaime went still. 

“Are you ok?”

Brienne didn't trust her body to let out any sounds she could control so she just nodded her head vigorously, which only served to move her body more against his leg, so she stopped just as abruptly.

Jaime slid his right leg from green to red and then her leg was trapped between both of his, his body arched up over hers like he was doing an extremely awkward downward dog. 

Brienne had never been more turned on and desperate in her life and there were people hooting and cheering them on and she was going to have to accept defeat to keep from rubbing herself along the muscular length of Jaime's legs in front of their friends. 

Then Sansa said, “left hand, green,” and Brienne quickly moved her hand to the circle and waited for Jaime to do the same. He just sat there, hovering over her, his arms starting to tremble a little from supporting his own weight. 

“Come on, Jaime,” Sansa said.

Jaime started to slide his hand, but his sock slipped on the mat, and his two legs and pelvis and extremely firm erection all pushed Brienne down to the Twister mat in a tangle of bodies. 

She lay there, Jaime on top of her, hard _all over_ , while their friends laughed and cheered and Sansa said, “Our still undefeated champion, Brienne Tarth!” 

“Oh,” Brienne said, her ass lifting up a little against Jaime and she meant it as signal to _get up, they're all looking at us_ , but he groaned in her ear and then pressed his pelvis the tiniest amount down against her and she had to borrow willpower from her ancestors to keep from letting out any unmistakably horny noises in the middle of the party while her body lit up from the inside out and begged for more. 

“Come on, get up, Lannister, you lost fair and square,” Robb was saying, and she saw him tugging at Jaime's arm. 

“Let go,” Jaime snarled, and Robb backed off his hands held up. 

“Sore loser,” Robb said, laughing. “Buck him off, Brienne, he deserves it.” 

She thought about bucking up against Jaime and his strong body and felt a fresh flood of heat roll through her. He was still very erect against her ass; she had no idea how he was going to get out of this without everyone knowing. 

_At least women don't get boners_ , Brienne thought gratefully and then, because she felt badly for him, she wiggled out from under him while he inhaled sharply in her ear, leaving him lying face down on the ground. She climbed up to her feet, pressed her bare foot into the small of his back and lifted her hands above her head in victory. There were a few pictures snapped and then she said, “Time for us to feast!” and gestured at the charcuterie board and that scattered the entire group back to the kitchen. 

Jaime pushed himself up from the ground in a smooth, swift, powerful move and turned his back on the others to face her from so close she could breathe him in. His eyes were burning, his jaw working hard. They were aligned along their right sides, so when he reached out with his right hand he gripped her right forearm tightly, and tugged her nearer. 

“Now you know,” he said quietly, then he let her go and retreated to the hallway where the bathroom was and Brienne stood there, blinking and wondering what she knew and what in the seven hells she was going to do about it.


	2. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Games generally involve jockeying for position. The center usually becomes closed, two competing pawn chains arise, and each player tries to outflank the other_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote the first chapter, I genuinely did not plan on writing a follow-on. But I got an idea so. Fine. Here you go. 😄

**King's pawn to e4**  
_This move has many strengths - it immediately works on controlling the center_

She did not follow him into the bathroom. 

Brienne thought about it. She thought about it the entire ten minutes he was in there and she was in the kitchen picking at what was leftover on the charcuterie plate. She thought about it when Theon went to go use the bathroom, found it locked, knocked, and then loudly said: “Are you jacking off in there or something?” 

She thought about what might have happened when Jaime came out a few seconds later, stared Theon down, and left Sansa and Margaery's place without even saying goodbye. 

She thought about it a _lot_ in bed that night. 

The conclusion Brienne came to was that Jaime's “now you know” meant one of three things: 

1\. He had some sort of medical problem where he got inappropriate erections and he was sharing his struggle with her;  
2\. He was attracted to her – Brienne Tarth – and had been for some undetermined amount of time;  
3\. He just really liked Twister. 

Brienne suspected no one liked Twister that much, and she'd spent enough time around Jaime, including at the beach where he wore scandalously form fitting bathing trunks, that if he had a weird erection overfunction problem she surely would have noticed by now. 

Which meant--

Impossible. 

But she hadn't imagined what she felt against her body and she hadn't imagined his low, intense words or the feel of his fingers wrapped like steel bands around her forearm. 

“I should have followed him into the bathroom,” she sighed to her empty bedroom the next morning. 

Now she had this knowledge and what she should have done with it, but she didn't have any idea what to do next in the bright light of morning. Was it a one-time situation? Would Jaime regret that she knew that, at least for one night, he'd been interested in her? Would he be relieved or upset that she hadn't followed him? Why had he left in such a hurry and without even saying anything?

Brienne poured her regular bowl of cereal and two-percent milk and looked at her phone. Jaime hadn't left her any messages, but that wasn't unusual. For all of his charm and easy grace, Jaime always hovered on the edges of their social group. Since Brienne usually did, too, they'd gravitated towards each other, she thought in outsider solidarity, but maybe there had been something more. They occasionally even hung out just the two of them, which no one else in their group did. The Stark-Tyrell Social Circle motto was “One For All, and All For Every Activity Together Forever.” 

It was great, most of the time, and entirely different from Brienne's life up to the point she was adopted into the S-TSC, but sometimes it was nice to walk around the park with just Jaime and not have to worry about their herd of friends scattering to hit on women (Theon), stop at the snack shop (Robb), or adjust their hair for the tenth time (Loras and Margaery).

It had taken the better part of two years but she and Jaime clicked now, when they weren't antagonizing each other in a much more subdued way. Maybe he was still just trying to antagonize her. With his dick.

Brienne dropped her head and stared at her phone and decided to take the very un-Brienne step of texting him first. If she made the first move, like an unexpected attack in chess, maybe she could control the board. She typed fast and furious and hit send before she could think too long about her actions. 

**My Cell** : Good morning. Are you free today?

She set her phone down and stared at it as she finished her cereal, slid her phone next to the sink while she washed out her bowl, held her phone in her hand when she went to her closet, and still managed to jump when it dinged with the incoming text. 

**Jaime Cell** : Why?

“Rude,” she said out loud. 

**My Cell** : You don't have to be rude. I thought we could grab lunch. 

Lunch seemed safe. A meal in daylight, maybe somewhere they could sit outside and have a quiet conversation surrounded by a bunch of people in case she was way off. 

**Jaime Cell** : Lunch works.

Brienne smiled proudly. 

**Jaime Cell** : Come to my place; I'll order in. 

She blinked, wide-eyed at the message. 

**Jaime Cell** : 1pm. See you then.

* * *

**Dutch Defense**  
_The Dutch defense is an aggressive counterplay by Black. Black immediately begins to move toward White's kingside in an attempt to crush White. However, it also creates weaknesses in Black's position from the beginning_

Twister had been a mistake. 

Jaime had known it the second Brienne had bent down to put her hand near his, her eyes fierce and so much bluer than the hyper-colorful polka dots on the mat under them. But he was not one to not finish what he started, and even though he had a truly intense erection halfway through, he was determined to win and then see if maybe...well, to be honest he hadn't given much thought about after Twister. He'd just focused on beating her and being near her. 

Being near Brienne was something Jaime had been thinking about a lot lately. He wasn't sure when his relief at seeing her at their friend gatherings had turned into eager anticipation that he would. When he'd shown up last night with the charcuterie plate he'd picked with her in mind – she preferred soft cheeses and red grapes and those paper thin rosemary crackers – seeing Brienne towering over Jon Snow, smiling and listening to him go on about whatever subject was causing him stomachaches, had made Jaime's whole body feel light. The two beers he'd had before Twister came up hadn't helped either. By the time he was lying pressed completely against Brienne's body, having to fight the urge to just pull down both their pants and take her right there on the floor, the jig was up. There was no hiding his more-than-friendly interest in Brienne. 

It had been a relief in some ways to finally have it there between them, metaphorically and literally speaking, and when he'd disappeared into the bathroom he'd hoped she would follow him and he could show her how serious he was. When five minutes passed, his erection was flagging and he was wondering if she thought he just really liked Twister. By the time Theon banged obnoxiously on the door, Jaime had been convinced Brienne wasn't interested in him that way at all. 

Except. 

Except she'd rolled back against him. She'd made those _noises_ that no one else could hear but had been as loud as a shout in his ears. And now she'd texted him first this morning asking about lunch. If she wasn't interested, then he was worse at reading signals than he thought. Which was why inviting her to his apartment for lunch had seemed like a bold and clever counterattack. A true strategist's move.

When she didn't respond to his presumptive scheduling, he realized that might have been his second mistake. 

But he ordered her favorite local Westerosi food and had the containers waiting on the counter just before one, in case she decided to show anyway. 

At two minutes after one, there was a knock on his door. All the doormen knew Brienne from when they met in the lobby for park walks; whoever was working today must have let her through. 

Jaime checked himself briefly in the hallway mirror – deep red polo shirt, tan slacks, hair just the right amount of mussed – and opened the door. 

“Hi,” he said. “I wasn't sure you were coming.” 

Brienne's cheeks went pink in the way that made him want to kiss them, and she waved her phone at him. “Yeah I should have responded, sorry.” 

“It's fine.” He stepped aside to usher her in. “Food's in the kitchen.” 

She'd been here before, though it had been with their entire friend group, not just on her own. Having her in his home, alone, was new and strange and wonderfully comfortable all at once. Jaime handed her a plate and gestured at the food and they both loaded their plates in silence. They went to his couch and sat at opposite ends, still in silence. And they both stared down at their plates without talking, picking at the food. 

Jaime wondered if she'd actually wanted to see him so he could apologize for his unwelcome physical intrusion. 

“Jaime-”

“Brienne-

They stopped and he gestured for her to speak first. 

“I'm sorry about yesterday,” she said hurriedly. “If I...made you uncomfortable.” 

He set his fork down on his plate. “Uncomfortable?”

“Because, you know,” she gestured at his plate sitting on his lap but it was what was behind the plate that she really meant. Jaime felt himself stirring just having her eyes focused down there. “I thought we were just playing Twister.” 

Ah. Apparently he _had_ read her signals wrong. She was still staring down at his plate-slash-groin though and it was not making his body any less eager. “We were,” he said tightly. 

“What did you want to say?” she asked, and she brought her eyes up to his face and somehow that was worse because her eyes, gods. Now he felt guilty for touching himself while thinking about those eyes, and the face that surrounded them and the woman behind them. 

“I just, uh, hope I didn't make you uncomfortable, either.” 

“Oh.” She took a big bite of her food and he watched her chew and swallow and lick her lips and this was somehow even worse than Twister had been. Now they were alone and he knew what she felt like pressed against his body and his dick was very interested in getting back there and further. _Now you know_ , he'd told her, but he still couldn't tell if she cared. 

“Did I?” he asked, a little desperately. “Make you uncomfortable?”

“N-no.” Her gaze hovered around his neck, and he could feel the touch of it as it kept dropping lower. 

Jaime shifted in his seat and stifled a groan at how constricting his pants had become. A lunch alone had also been a mistake. He stood, holding his plate in front of the evidence that he was a truly terrible friend, mumbled, “Excuse me a minute,” and escaped into the bathroom, moving as quick as he could with his very awkward boner. 

He was gently banging his head into the cabinet mirror in frustration when the door opened and Brienne stepped inside.

* * *

**11...Nh5!?**  
_The move itself is delightfully paradoxical, offering the chance to wreck the player's pawn structure in return for activity_

“What are you doing?” Jaime gaped at her. 

“Following you into the bathroom.” 

He looked more panicked than she would have liked. “I can see that. _Why_?”

Oh she had read all the pieces so wrong. She had definitely not missed his erection when he'd fled from the room, but she had thought it was because of her inability to stop staring at him. _Now you know_ , he'd told her last night and then gone to the bathroom and she should have followed. She couldn't not follow him again, could she? It would be like not moving into check when she had the chance. Except maybe she shouldn't have. 

“Sorry, I thought-- last night you seemed...what did you _mean_? What do I know?”

His mouth opened, closed. Opened again. She let her eyes flutter down just a moment and there was still an impressive bulge in his expensive slacks. 

“Apparently nothing,” he muttered and when her gaze flew back to meet his, he grabbed her by the shoulders, yanked her close and kissed her hard. 

Brienne's brain shorted out long enough that Jaime broke the kiss before she could take stock of any of it beyond hot and needy and hungry. 

“Now do you know?” he asked, almost a growl, and Brienne shivered under his hands. He was still holding her in place, whether to keep her at bay or keep her from fleeing she couldn't tell. 

“You don't just really like Twister,” she said and his laugh was loud and a little hysterical. 

“Only with you.” His hands slid up her neck, cupped her head and tugged her closer more gently and this time she was able to breathe into the heat of his mouth, the soft but quickly firming pressure of his lips, the way he tilted his head a little and his tongue swiped against hers. 

Brienne moaned and Jaime's fingers slid back into her hair and pulled her against him – _all_ of him – and he was exactly as solid and hard as he'd been last night. She gripped the front of his shirt and rolled her pelvis into his and the noise he made was like winning every game she had ever and would ever play. 

Jaime nibbled his way across her jaw and down her neck while he went to work on her jeans and Brienne, matching him move for move, attacked his belt and pants, too. She'd imagined having sex with him in the bathroom at Sansa and Margaery's house, quiet and hurried and cramped in the much smaller space. Jaime's bathroom was sleek and huge, plenty of room for the two of them, plenty of privacy so when he tugged her pants down and slid his fingers to where she was wet and aching, her echoing cry didn't embarrass her. 

Brienne had him free a moment later and he groaned so loudly when she touched him she thought for a moment she'd gotten his skin stuck in his zipper. “Are you okay?” she whispered and he huffed against her shoulder, where he was resting his forehead. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I've been wanting you to do that for awhile.” 

She slid her hand up and down his length and he shuddered. “That?” she asked, feeling brave and happy. 

“I know we've progressed quickly from Twister to this,” he said, thrusting himself into her hand and his fingers into her core so they both gasped, “but I would really like to fuck you now.” 

“Please,” she begged. 

Jaime directed her backward towards the double sinks, shuffling with their pants around their knees, before lifting her up onto the cold countertop. He kissed her again, sloppy and wanting, while he fumbled open a nearby drawer. She took the opportunity to rub her hands up under his shirt, pressed her palms against his muscles while he moved and shifted and tried to find-

“Got it,” he gasped, breaking the kiss to hold up an unopened box of condoms. 

“Why the bathroom?” she asked while he ripped the box open and she trailed her fingers along his waist, up his chest and rubbed her hands over his nipples. 

“What?” he asked, his eyes hazy with lust and a little sharp with the frustration of the condom packet. 

Brienne kissed the tendon of his neck standing stark under his golden skin. He tasted salty and delicious; she licked along his pulse and he moaned in her ear. “Why aren't your condoms in the bedroom? Do you just really like bathrooms?” 

He laughed and slid the condom on while she pulled back to watch his fingers against the red and leaking length of himself. Her thighs clenched in anticipation. 

“What makes you think I don't have condoms in my bedroom, too?” he said, and he pressed slowly inside her and she had no more questions to ask. 

He wasn't slow for long and she was fine with it, the way he sped up, thrusting long and demanding while she held onto his broad shoulders and matched his pace with her tongue as they kissed. Jaime's hand snuck between them and she felt like she was a spinner, whirling around the pointed heat of where their bodies met, dizzy with how much she wanted him, the noises he made into her mouth, the wet sound and feel, and his fingers, too, until she was crying out and Jaime's shouts were muffled against her shirt as he pounded in sharp, erratic jerks. 

Brienne's world spun slowly to a stop, and she gulped in air and laid her head on his shoulder, holding Jaime's trembling body in her arms. Her own kept rolling with small aftershocks, his hands flexing against her hips. 

“Now you know,” he murmured into her ear, and she did. Oh, she did.

* * *

**Qf6!!**  
_A bolt from the blue. Black resigned two moves later, upon realizing that he is getting mated._

Jaime woke up the next morning with a Brienne-shaped blanket draped over him and stayed in bed even though he really needed to pee. After the bathroom they'd finished their food and then had sex again – several times – and, most importantly of all, she'd stayed over. Now she was sleepy and warm and snuggled against him and he was happier than he could remember being in years. He didn't want to wake her up and find out she didn't feel the same. 

She sighed softly, her arm drifting down his stomach as she stirred and stretched against him. He didn't move, not wanting to make her stop rubbing her body all along his. 

“Good morning,” she mumbled into his shoulder. 

Jaime kissed her forehead. “Good morning. Did you sleep all right?”

Brienne scooted down a little and nuzzled into his chest and he wrapped his other arm around her, too. “Yeah,” she said. She tilted her head to look at him and her wildly spiked hair and luminous blue eyes made her look like some anime character come to life. 

“Me too,” he agreed with a smile. 

She laid her head over his chest and said with quiet delight, “I can hear your heart.” 

_Of course you can_ , he thought, _it's calling your name._

Brienne rubbed her hand over his stomach. “Are you free today?” she asked casually. 

“Yep,” he said. For her he was free forever, but she didn't need to know that yet. “I thought maybe we could play Twister again. Except this time, let's do it naked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chess stuff from here: https://dwheeler.com/chess-openings/  
> And here: https://www.chess.com/article/view/the-7-most-amazing-world-championship-moves  
> And here: https://chessentials.com/best-chess-moves/
> 
> Alas I did not get to use this one, so feel free to imagine your own scenario: 
> 
> Sicilian Defense: _Black immediately fights for the center, but by attacking from the c-file (instead of mirroring White's move) he creates an asymmetrical position that leads to lots of complicated positions._


End file.
